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If I'm a judge there's one hell of a scrap comin, and if we're beat it looks like leaving Sachigo a thing forgotten." Bull stood up. He laughed without the least mirth. "It's the Skandinavia," he said decidedly. "War's begun. I'm going right down to that meeting." Bat leapt to his feet. "No," he said. "This is for Skert an' me " "Is it?" Bull brushed his protest aside almost fiercely.
There was also a rocker-chair which accommodated the lean body of Skert Lawton at such infrequent moments as it desired repose. Beyond that there was little enough furniture. The place was mainly bare boards and bare walls. Bat sat himself at the desk and left Bull the rocker-chair. "I'd fixed it so Skert was to meet us here," he said. "All this is his stuff.
No doubt he was all this in addition to his brilliant attainments as an engineer. But the methods he applied to others he applied to himself. And the whole of him, brain and body, was for the enterprise they were all engaged in. Bat had intended to goad the demon of obstinate energy which possessed the man, and he succeeded. Skert flung out his hand in a comprehensive gesture. "Hell!" he cried.
But I fell for the news-sheet dope, an' set up that cursed recreation shanty. Now we're goin' to git trouble." "How?" Bull's ejaculation was sharp. "They hold meetings there. They dope out Capital and Labour stuff there, instead of pushing games at each other. Guess they got the bug of politics an' are scratching themselves bad. It ain't the old Labrador guys, Skert says.
"You've done one big thing. An' it's the thing Bull and I want " "Then why in hell didn't you say it instead of talking notions?" For all the sharpness of his retort, Skert was mollified. Bat shook his head and a shrewd light twinkled in his eyes. "You're a pretty bright boy, Skert," he said. "But you're brightest when you're riled."
His heavy brows depressed, and his deep-set eyes narrowed to gimlet holes. Skert pursued him. Once clear of the window, and beyond earshot, Bat flung his reply with all the passionate force of his fighting nature. "The lousy swine!" he cried. "I'll close that place sure as hell." Skert shook his head as they walked on. "No, you won't," he said. "Guess you aren't crazy.
Well, it's a hell of a long piece here to Labrador, but it's found its way, and the mutton-brained fools who're supposed to play around that shanty you handed 'em are recreating themselves talking about it in there. Here, come right over to that window. It's open." Perhaps Skert was enjoying himself. Certainly his mournful eyes were less mournful as he led his chief over to the open window.
And if you're satisfied we'll quit right away. I've no spare play time." There was no pretence of patience in Skert Lawton. He had looked for appreciation and only found doubt. He moved off. Bat had done the thing intended. He had no intention of hurting the man. He understood the driving power of the mood he had stirred. They moved off together. "That's all right, Skert," he said kindly.
There were some eighteen in all, and their dull roar was racking upon ears unused. Bat was regarding them without enthusiasm. All he knew was the thing they represented. Skert Lawton had told him. They represented the harnessing of five hundred thousand horse power of the Beaver River water.
Beyond the ridge lay the waters of the cove. And to the left the broad waters of the river mouth flowed by. It was a desolate, damp spot, but its significance to the two men studying it was profound. Skert Lawton, the chief engineer of Sachigo, tall, loose-limbed, raw-boned, watched his superior with somewhat mournful, unsmiling eyes.
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